


Mythos: Komarot's Memory

by JadeTheThief



Category: Dice Funk Podcast D&D Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeTheThief/pseuds/JadeTheThief
Summary: Post-ADD 1 campaign, Komarot starts to remember some things.Note: "Forever Duck" is a restaurant that Johnny went to, that I'm very proud to have made into a character.





	Mythos: Komarot's Memory

It always comes to him in pieces. A sturdy stone castle. A humid workshop, the furnace crackling. The skies growing red. Faces come and go, but the end is always the same. A voice booms: “I, F’unkh, have been betrayed.”

\---

“Are you alright, Wheelmaker?” Mara asks, setting her wine glass down.

“Yar, it’s nothing,” Komarot sighs, the pale, spindly hand of his current body rubbing his temple. “Old memories.”

“Ah.” Mara smiles as she looks at him, sitting awkwardly in the body of a pale, fragile girl, her long black hair drooped over her face. “You know, you’re lucky my guards didn’t kill you on sight when you arrived.”

Komarot snorts. “Ah figured, ‘ey, that girl’s body’s still layin’ on that bench there. Ain’t nobody usin’ it.” He lifts his mug of ale and takes a gulp. “She’s still in ‘ere, ah think. Very quiet, though… kinda seems happy? Ah guess?” He shrugs. “How’s the dancer doin’, by the way? What’s ‘er name? Marina?”

“Malika,” a buff, shirtless man replies, putting a hand on Komarot’s chair. “Doing well, thanks.”

Komarot grins. “Finally figured out how ta use that body swap spell, eh?”

The man laughs. “Yeah, it keeps things interesting. I’m kinda surprised how many guys are down for it.” He rubs his chest. “This one’s not bad on the eyes, though his dancing muscles need some work.”

“Well, glad yer happy,” Komarot nods. Malika winks and walks off to rejoin the main hall.

“How’s the kid doing? Flyn, was it?” Mara sips her wine. “I seem to recall him saying that you would have to stay in some other dimension in order for him to remain free.”

“Oh, THAT.” Komarot shakes his head. “Nar, ah got Mirac exactly what ‘e wanted. How long it takes fer ‘is mind ta recover, ah dunno. Not mah problem. Ah left the old orc body there ta keep the spell runnin’, though.”

“Well, I’m sure the goddess will be pleased to hear you are back.”

“Ah’m sure…” a pensive look crosses his face. “How’s that going, by the way? The deal ah set up with yer people and Cal?”

“Well. Very well, actually.” Mara laughs. “I’m surprised we didn’t think of it earlier. There’s been some trouble with the other cults, Zocrab and such, and the established religions, of course. But, membership has never been higher.”

“Great, glad ta hear it.” He sets his ale mug down, rising to his feet. “Excuse me a minute, ah got ta go take a leak.”

Mara nods and lifts her wine glass, watching Malika dance and sipping slowly.

\---

Stepping outside, Komarot turns and walks down the alley. He looks, checking to make sure nobody’s watching, then whispers, “Quackers? Ey, ah know ya can ‘ear me. Where are ya?”

A peel of light tears out of the wall, blinding Komarot as it takes shape in the form of a golden duck. The duck sighs. “Komarot, I’ve told you before, my name isn’t Quackers, it’s-“

“Yeah, whatever, Quackers,” Komarot cuts him off. “Look, ah just need ta know what ye remember about the old days.”

“Which old days?” The duck settles, shrinking down to be about four feet tall as it perches on a trash can.

“Ya know, before all the powers and such.” Komarot shrugs. “The OLD days. Ah keep havin’ these visions, er memories, er somethin’. Glimpses of back then. Ah thought ah’d forgotten, but…”

“You are referring to the events that took place thirty-two thousand, five hundred-“  
“Yah. Feck.” He rubs his temples. “Don’t remind me how old ah am.”

“I remember very little, before the event.” The duck blinks. “As far as I am concerned, my life began on that day.”

“Fine, well, what ah really wanted ta know…” Komarot frowns. “Who is F’unkh?”

The duck’s brow furrows pensively. “I have vague recollections of this being. A deity of balance, I believe.”

“It made us the way we are, didn’t it?” Komarot folds his arms. “Ah know ah drink a lot, but ah can’t ‘ave been drunk so hard as ah’d forget a bloke like that.” So why can’t I remember?

“My memories are suspiciously hazy as well.” The duck’s head lowers, trying to recall. “Mortal legends I’ve come across say that F’unkh now sleeps. Certain cults seek to awaken it. The Cult of the Word, for one.”

“Don’t give a feck ‘bout cults.” Komarot shakes his head. “What ah wants ta know is what it wants with me.”

“With you?”

“Them visions? They always end with a F’unkh speakin’ ta me, tellin’ me it was betrayed. An’ then ah wake up an’ think, ‘So? What do ya want me ta do about it?”  
“Perhaps you are someone it trusts.”

Komarot sighs. “Y’know, I ain’t exactly the hero type. That’s more o’ yer thing, really.”  
The duck’s wings flap in a shrug. “Recent events say otherwise.”

“What? The thing with the kid and the halfling?” Komarot snorts. “Ah was bored. Wanted ta stay there. Plus, it’s always cute when mortals try ta tempt Gorfy.”

“Well…” the duck turns, lifting a wing to create a tear of light in the air. “I’ll keep a look out for these visions, or anything regarding F’unkh.”

“Yah, okay.” Komarot waves. “Good seein’ ya, Quackers.”

The duck shakes its head and passes into the light, vanishing.


End file.
